ister,
and help her to pack up for the night mail."

CHAPTER III.

Three more days have passed. It is evening. Rose, Trudaine and Lomaque
are seated together on the bench that overlooks the windings of
the Seine. The old familiar scene spreads before them, beautiful as
ever--unchanged, as if it was but yesterday since they had all looked on
it for the last time.

They talk together seriously and in low voices. The same recollections
fill their hearts--recollections which they refrain from acknowledging,
but the influence of which each knows by instinct that the other
partakes. Sometimes one leads the conversation, sometimes another; but
whoever speaks, the topic chosen is always, as if by common consent, a
topic connected with the future.

The evening darkens in, and Rose is the first to rise from the bench. A
secret look of intelligence passes between her and her brother, and then
she speaks to Lomaque.

"Will you follow me into the house," she asks, "with as little delay as
possible? I have something that I very much wish to show you."

Her brother waits till she is out of hearing, then inquires anxiously
what has happened at Paris since the night when he and Rose left it.

"Your sister is free," Lomaque answers.

"The duel took place, then?"

"The same day. They were both to fire together. The second of his
adversary asserts that he was paralyzed with terror; his own second
declares that he was resolved, however he might have lived, to confront
death courageously by offering his life at the first fire to the man
whom he had injured. Which account is true, I know not. It is only
certain that he did not discharge his pistol, that he fell by his
antagonist's first bullet, and that he never spoke afterward."

"And his mother?"

"It is hard to gain information. Her doors are closed; the old servant
guards her with jealous care. A medical man is in constant attendance,
and there are reports in the house that the illness from which she is
suffering affects her mind more than her body. I could ascertain no
more."

After that answer they both remain silent for a little while, then rise
from the bench and walk toward the house.

"Have you thought yet about preparing your sister to hear of all that
has happened?" Lomaque asks, as he sees the lamp-light glimmering in the
parlor window.

"I shall wait to prepare her till we are settled again here--till
the first holiday pleasure of our return has worn off,